


Scent

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-26
Updated: 2006-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The locker room is empty, and Sakuraba Haruto is waiting for Shin Seijuro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent

**Author's Note:**

> For Yukitsu. Prompt: "underwear."

The locker room is empty, save for two football players. One is sitting on a bench, the other is in the shower. They are not speaking to one another, not shouting at each other over the steady spray of water, carrying on a typical teenagers's conversation.

Sakuraba Haruto is waiting for Shin Seijuro. It's not that he has to; he wants to. Shin is getting away -- too far, too fast for Haruto to keep up. He misses Shin, misses the way they used to hang out after school and watch football videos they had seen three times before. He misses sleepovers and throwing passes in the backyard and teasing Shin about his balanced diet.

So on the rare occasions he doesn't have to work, Haruto hangs around after practice and walks to the school gates with Shin. Sometimes they walk home together, but usually, they part ways much sooner than that. Still, Haruto savors their moments together; they hurt and feel good at the same time. He wonders when he started to...  _notice_  Shin. Such thoughts make him squirm on the bench

Haruto is listening to the running shower, trying -- and failing -- not to picture how Shin must look under it. His mind conjures the image of Shin's perfect, masculine body -- tanned and hardened muscles almost resisting the warm water pelting against them. Haruto cannot believe girls go for him, when there is such a masterpiece like Shin available.

He can't stand himself sometimes, to both envy Shin and  _want_  him.

Haruto checks his watch. Shin is almost scary in his proficiency, but it's only been a couple of minutes since he's shed his clothes and marched to the shower stalls with a towel wrapped 'round his waist. Haruto sighs quietly, because he has only his imagination to keep him company, and it's providing him with steam and skin and  _god_ , Shin's  _expression_....

He starts, sits up straighter on the bench.  _I'm so dirty,_  Haruto thinks, ashamed. The shame intensifies when his eyes fall on the pile of clothes on the bench next to him. Shin's clothes, used clothes, dirty laundry that will go into a duffel bag and back home to be washed away of the scent --  _of Shin's scent...._

Before he realizes what's happened, Haruto is touching the clothes. He feels a twinge of excitement. It's not like touching Shin's shirt when delivering a slap on the back or a punch in the shoulder. It's different, it's... more personal. Haruto picks up the shirt and smells it, rubs it against his cheek. He imagines doing the same to Shin's chest as he turns his face into the jersey and inhales. He is overloaded with fabric softener, sweat, and the unique musk that is  _Shin_.

"Seijuro," he whispers into the material, and he shivers at the name, a guilty pleasure. He almost never speaks Shin's given name. Haruto takes the fantasy a step further and slips his hands into the shirt. His head falls back against the wall and he rubs the shirt on his neck, imprints Shin's scent onto his own skin and wishes,  _oh god_ , Shin's mouth was there instead.

He's hard. It hurts. He wants to touch himself.

The shirt is released and falls into his lap. Quickly, he digs under it, finds his button and zipper and makes quick work of them both. He shouldn't be doing this -- he  _shouldn't_. He's doing it, anyway. He frees his erection and it's touching Shin's shirt, it's  _touching Shin's shirt_. His hips jerk, and he whimpers.

His free hand gropes blindly beside him on the bench, fumbles through cloth and finds a pair of boxers. Underwear.  _Shin's underwear._  He should stop this, he should stop; Shin will be finished bathing soon, and come out, wet, dripping, in nothing but a towel -- and Haruto will be jerking off to his friend's dirty laundry. The humiliation would be... he should stop this.

But his hand is already moving, already flull of himself, knowing what he likes. He imagines Shin's hand in its place; Shin's hands on him, Shin's mouth on him, Shin's hard, naked body pressing against him, down upon him... he  _groans_. "Shiiiiiiiiiin," he whispers, tugging on his length, tickling its tip. Shin's hands are so big, they would be so warm, so  _rough_  and so  _good_. He has to lie down on the hard bench, before he collapses.

He lifts the underwear to his nose. Shin's boxers are like his shirt, but their scent is heavier. If anything smells like pure  _Shin_ , they do. It turns Haruto on even more, and he rubs his face in the boxers, licks the spot where the scent is strongest, takes and material into his mouth and sucks. He stops teasing himself and  _strokes_ , hard and fast and thinks of Shin's wet body, wet hands, wet mouth....

He comes all over his hand, and the orgasm is accompanied by a helpless groan of " _Sei--ju--ro--!_ "

Haruto wants to stay there forever, lying still, with Shin's dirty shirt on his stomach and Shin's dirty underwear in his mouth. But he can't; Shin will be out of the shower soon.

 _Shin!_

Haruto jerks upright, eyes wide as he takes the boxers away from his face. Relief washes over him when there is no sign of Shin. He reaches into his own duffel bag and pulls out his used towel. He cleans the evidence away and stuffs the towel back into his bag. Then he stuffs himself back into his pants, and then he sits perfectly still and breathes deeply. The shower has stopped. Shin is coming.

Haruto is embarrassed, ashamed, as footsteps pad closer and closer toward him.

"Sakuraba," speaks a deep, masculine voice. Shin Seijuro.

"Shin," Haruto says by way of greeting, meeting the dark eyes and serious expression. He doesn't want to look at Shin, not now, but makes himself do it, anyway. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yes." Shin is looking at him strangely. It makes Haruto feel very small.

"... Shin?" he questions.

Shin says, "Sakuraba," and points.

Sakuraba Haruto wants to die. He is still holding Shin's boxers. "Ah, this? Well, Shin, I was just -- I was -- I..." he trails off, his cheeks feel a bit warm, and he's  _ashamed_.

"You can keep them."

"Eh?" Haruto lifts his head, blinking, and Shin is shouldering his bag.

"I said, you can keep them. If you want." Shin sounds like he can't imagine why Haruto would  _want_  a pair of his underwear, but he doesn't sound  _disturbed_  by the fact.

"I can... keep...?"

"Let's go, or we'll be late to do our homework," is all Shin says before he starts on his way out of the locker room.

Haruto can't believe what's just happened, but he isn't going to test his luck. He stuffs the black boxers into his own bag, and follows.


End file.
